When In Bad Company
by IxAjaw
Summary: Shortly after Keicho Nijimura got his Stand, he tried to use it. It worked beautifully. A story about a mad, sad family. Why don't Keicho and Papa Nijimura have character tags?


Keicho Nijimura sat on his bed, staring down at the ordered lines of toy soldiers.

Calling them toy soldiers was a bit harsh, as they certainly weren't toys, but what else could they be described as? Their tiny figures stood ramrod straight, ordered perfectly like dominoes, patiently staring straight ahead, awaiting orders. At least, that's what he assumed they were waiting for.

"Left face," he said with more conviction than he felt. Every single man moved in perfect sync as they obeyed. So he's their commander, then. Neat.

He knew what Stands were, obviously. Heard all about them from his dad in between drunken rants about how his life was the worst life ever, how he was left with two stupid, useless, ungrateful kids. Keicho's Stand seemed a little different, though—most Stands were described as a single, large, often muscular being. This tiny personal army was most certainly not that.

What could soldiers so small even do?

Keicho struggled to come up with some kind of test—he needed to know the full extent of what Bad Company could do. He didn't want to kill himself on accident. Deciding to take his tests outside the house so his brother Okuyasu wouldn't get in the way, Keicho headed to the local pier.

It wasn't a particularly nice day; the slightly cloudy weather meant the wind bit and scratched at his face, salt in the air stinging his eyes, but it also meant there weren't more people than necessary around. Perfect.

He loitered, pretending to admire the sea when he caught sight of a small vessel returning. It was a personal boat, with only two people disembarking. Keicho slowly drifted over as it was tied down, summoning Bad Company. The foot soldiers wouldn't be much help here, he didn't think. They were too low to the ground, they wouldn't be able to get any meaningful angle. The firepower of the helicopters alone wouldn't be enough, either. He's not even sure if their firepower could break the skin, their shots would have to be tiny. Tanks it was, then.

For this to work, Bad Company would have to be reasonably precise. If it aimed too low, the tank fire would hit the water and not puncture the boat. If they aimed too high, even if they managed to puncture the boat, the water wouldn't flood it fast enough for it to sink without someone being able to notice and stop it. Ideally, it would pierce through the side and all the way through the bottom of the boat, but Keicho had no way of knowing what would be in between.

"Bad Company," he murmured, hoping no one would walk by and hear, "Sink that boat."

A member of his company started to shout orders, and the tanks pulled forward in a line. When they fired, the sound was loud enough that Keicho couldn't help but flinch.

This flinch was thankfully covered up by the explosion.

Someone screamed but Keicho was mesmerized by the column of flame jutting out of the water—the heat wasn't making his eyes feel any better, but he couldn't close them either. This was so much more power than he was expecting to have. Why didn't more people have Stands? If being stabbed by an arrow was all it took to give people power like this, why the hell hasn't anyone used this power before? Everyone in the world should be fighting to become a Stand user!

Keicho was shook from his thoughts when he realized that he had been standing far too close to the scene. Bits of boat started to rain down on everyone, and people who had been frozen in fear started to run. Keicho, however, remained frozen, even as he noticed a large metal pipe falling toward his face.

The pipe, too, exploded.

Keicho jerked back, falling on his ass as he yelped. Despite the explosion, not a piece of it touched him—so close to his face? Impossible.

He swiveled his head toward Bad Company only to see the ends of their guns smoking. The image barely had time to register before all of them unanimously twisted and aimed at another piece of debris, firing at it and blasting it.

Holy shit. Bad Company was small, but its actions were so in sync it could destroy anything. And it could use that massive firepower to protect Keicho too. Stands were truly terrifying. They could decimate anything they come across.

With a Stand so powerful, he might be able to kill his dad.

Keicho shakily stood to his feet. He ignored a man reaching out to him, dissipating his Stand and running back home. Nothing would stop him.

By the time he got home, the sun was setting and Keicho was completely sore and out of breath. He wheezed as he stumbled through the front gate, feet having gone numb a couple miles ago. He made a point of standing up straighter when he approached his front door, refusing to show weakness. A simple run shouldn't have made him so tired, but he didn't run in the measured, calculated way he does when he jogs in the morning.

Pull yourself together, Keicho thought, this is exactly what you were hoping for. This is what you've wanted to do since you were a kid.

He pressed his knuckles to his chest, like he could punch the air back into his lungs, and he slid down to the floor. Hyperventilating, or close to it. Why? This is the best opportunity he's had in his life. Maybe part of him still doesn't believe it.

"Bro?"

"Okuyasu," Keicho replied neutrally, staring at the floor.

"What's wrong? You're all rough-lookin'. Somethin' happen?"

"No," Keicho said, "I have great news, actually. I just… ran all the way back home."

"Ran from where?" Okuyasu asked, holding out his hand to his brother. Keicho pushed himself back up the wall, waving Okuyasu away.

"Doesn't matter," Keicho said as he dusted himself off. "Is dad awake?"

"No, he went to bed super early," said Okuyasu, slightly annoyed. "I tanked him up on old beef we needed to get rid of. He probably won't try to get a midnight snack or anythin' tonight."

"Perfect. Let's do this, then."

Okuyasu sputtered out pointless questions but followed obediently to their father's door.

Their father's room was downright stale, with dust and dirt fluttering through the air on narrow streams of light. There was a primordial wrongness to that room, one that didn't manage to penetrate the rest of the house.

Their father, who was sleeping on the floor against the far wall, let out a phlegm-filled snore. If you ignored his lumpy, green hide, he could almost look like a child, for all the presence that he had.

"Bro?" Okuyasu said, "What are we gonna do?"

Keicho summoned Bad Company. "Take aim," he says, glowering at his father.

"Seriously bro, is something wrong? Aim what?" Okuyasu said as he reached over to Keicho's shoulder, taking a step.

"STOP!" he yelled, causing both Okuyasu and Bad Company to freeze. Or try to. Okuyasu unwittingly stepped on some members of Bad Company. Supposedly, when a Stand gets injured it injures the user, and if they get crushed—well. Actually. Keicho felt fine.

Keicho released the breath he didn't know he was holding as he muttered at his brother to stand still, dammit, just watch. When he turned back to his father he was sitting up, staring at them both dully. His eyes were unfocused and there was drool standing at the corner of his swollen, misshapen mouth. It's like Keicho and Okuyasu were just pieces of furniture to him. That the very nearly near-death experience that could have just happened held the same amount of weight to their father as an annoying dog barking, interrupting his nap.

"FIRE!" he screamed, pointing a finger at his father so that there's no chance of the target being misunderstood. His brother yelped as there was a flurry of light and sound by his feet, and their father exploded into a red and green chunky mess against the wall. An eyeball ricocheted off the wall and bounced back toward Keicho, bumping against his shoe. The shooting went on for a moment after his father had been reduced to bloody mush, and Keicho eventually realized that he had to call them off manually. He shook his ringing head and Bad Company disappeared.

They stood in relative silence, the only sound being the house creaking dangerously, settling from the violent abuse it had suffered. Okuyasu breathed heavily even as he lowered his arms from his face, glancing at his brother nervously. Keicho would have noticed this if he had torn his eyes away from the stain.

"Bro, what the hell?" he said. He waved his hand in front of his face, trying to make the smoke disappear.

Keicho worked his jaw for a moment, trying to find words and failing. He eventually managed to whisper "I did it" before clearing his throat loudly.

"I did it," he said with conviction. "I killed our father. We don't have to worry about him anymore."

His brother stared at him blankly. Then looked around the room. "How?"

Keicho's shoulders relaxed, slightly. Explaining the mechanics of something was easy, even if Okuyasu was dumb.

They ended up ordering a pizza as Keicho told Okuyasu about Stands, and about Bad Company in particular. It was obvious from his brother's expressions that he didn't get it, but that was fine. Once Keicho demonstrated what Bad Company was capable of on some trash they had lying around the kitchen, Okuyasu completely believed in its existence, and that's all he really needed his brother to do. Believe him.

They ended up falling asleep in the living room.

Regret wasn't something Keicho felt often, but sleeping on the couch was one good reason to feel it. He scrunched his eyes shut tighter as he rubbed his neck, intending to roll over and fall back asleep, but there was a disgusting wet smacking noise. Someone chewing.

"Okuyasu, close your mouth when you eat," he said as he blindly slapped in the direction of the noise, coming into contact with rough, bumpy skin. Keicho jerked his hand back and his body up off the couch.

Sitting in front of a pizza box is his father, mindlessly shoving pizza into his maw. He looked gross, but gross and unharmed.

"No…" Keicho said. His hands gripped the couch cushions so hard that the fabric tore.

He didn't notice the sound of Okuyasu bumbling down the stairs until he rounded the corner, loudly saying "Hey, bro, since we need to go grocery shopping any… ways…"

Keicho shook, vibrating with anger, or disbelief, or any number of things that he couldn't parse. "Okuyasu, did you see our father come downstairs this morning?"

"N-no," he replied honestly.

"Good," Keicho said tightly, "That's good." He stared down at his father for a moment before abruptly standing up straight. "Stay here with him, I'm going to get something."

Okuyasu meeped as Keicho shoved past him, taking the stairs two at a time, but quietly sat on the couch, looking at his father.

Okuyasu knew he wasn't smart. Everyone knew that, but no one knew it better than him. He knew that his father deserved to die. Needed to die. He also knew that his brother genuinely believed that they had managed to kill their father last night. Last night had been the first time since they were kids that he and his brother had just… hung out. Ordered some food and talked about nothing without their father looming over them, literally or figuratively. It had been nice, even if the tomato sauce on the pizza had reminded Okuyasu a lot of their father's bloody remains on the wall.

What wasn't nice was the look on Keicho's face as he stomped back into the room, holding a gaudy bow and arrow.

"I know you shot him a lot last night, bro," Okuyasu said carefully, "but if shooting him 'til he blew up didn't work, I don't think one arrow will work."

"For once, you're right, Okuyasu," Keicho said. "But I'm not shooting him this time."

Okuyasu breathed out a sigh of relief, dramatically placing his hand over his heart, right before Keicho shot the arrow right through both of those things.


End file.
